


spin cycle

by omoiyaris



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Awkward Flirting, Laundry is involved, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26869204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omoiyaris/pseuds/omoiyaris
Summary: Tetsurou returns from his one-man karaoke session to find a man standing in front ofhiswashing machine with a basket full ofhisclothes, humming the songhejust finished singing (with a score of 98%) under his breath.There's something to laundromats.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Yaku Morisuke
Comments: 20
Kudos: 128
Collections: Haikyuu!!





	spin cycle

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes we write stupid things to cope.

Tetsurou returns from his one-man karaoke session to find a man standing in front of _his_ washing machine with a basket full of _his_ clothes, humming the song _he_ just finished singing (with a score of 98%) under his breath. 

The last point means nothing in the grand scheme of things; Tetsurou is just petty. But the first and second still stand. The laundromat is plastered with posters reading _‘Please don’t take clothes out of the washing machines and dryers unless they belong to you!’_ Forgive him for actually, you know, trying to do the right thing by respecting the written and unwritten rules of this fine establishment. 

Even if he willfully disregards them (which he has done on occasion), he makes sure no one’s around to see it. The perfect crime leaves no witnesses, after all. But this guy either has no sense of self preservation or, more likely, just doesn’t give a shit. He just goes about his business right out in the open like he has nothing to be ashamed of. Tetsurou would admire that attitude if it weren’t directly inconveniencing himself. 

It feels strange to be the only two people in this shitty laundromat—the place only works as a space either filled with people fighting to the death for free machines, or completely empty, where you’re left separating colours from whites in absolute solitude while teetering on the edge of an existential crisis. 

He’s not sure how to operate in this situation. Experience (or the four R-rated videos he’s watched set in a laundromat) say he should just go up to the guy and push him up against the washing machine to establish dominance, but this isn’t _Spin Cycle_ and the guy doesn’t have his dick out and, oh yeah, _Tetsurou isn’t a fucking idiot._

He forces _Spin Cycle_ out of his mind and stalks over with a scowl, arms crossed over his chest. He’s not feeling all that generous at the moment or he’d approach this differently, but all he can muster at the moment is a biting, “Hey, buddy. Didn’t you ever learn how to read?” 

The man pauses and looks up. He’s a good deal shorter than Tetsurou, and seems to realize that at the same time Tetsurou does. His eyes narrow in displeasure. His height isn’t the only noticeable thing about him, however; he has a handsome face, with sharp features hidden underneath a mop of light hair. 

Tetsurou’s scowl slowly slides off his face. So he’s… attractive. _Alright_. He swallows audibly and almost gives up his washing machine, wallet, and Individual Number then and there. Pretty faces are his goddamn kryptonite, but—“No,” the man says bluntly, surveying him with faint amusement above a bunched up sweatshirt. “I’m twenty one and fully illiterate. Educate me.”

“I—“ Tetsurou’s garbled, half-formed declarations of love at first sight die in his throat. _Okay_ , fuck the pretty face. “Sure,” he says easily, his grin piercing as he points to the poster hanging behind the man. “Let me enlighten you then: you’re not supposed to touch other peoples’ clothes.” His gaze falls on the basket of his stuff and he chokes. “Especially not their _intimates_. Come on!”

“I wouldn’t call your ratty Spiderman underwear an _intimate_ , but whatever works for you.” The man shrugs and pushes the basket towards Tetsurou, who accepts it grudgingly. “By the way, the posters also ask people to not hog the machines. Your stuff has been sitting here for the past hour and a half.” 

Tetsurou doesn’t want him to have a point. He didn’t realize he wasted that much time at karaoke either. “So… that made you think manhandling my boxers was somehow okay?” 

The man raises an eyebrow and smirks. “I handled them gently.” 

Alright. This is veering uncomfortably into laundromat porn territory. Tetsurou hefts the basket and holds it against his hip and shoots him one last glare. “Well, next time you want to handle something of mine, ask first.” It’s meant to be a devastating parting line, but falls short as Tetsurou thinks this definitely sounds like a piece of _Spin Cycle_ dialogue. 

The man stares at him for a moment before breaking out into loud, unrestrained laughter. It’s kind of ugly, but Tetsurou is a little bit in love with it, infuriatingly enough. Is this a kink? Being laughed at by a gorgeous stranger who’s already overly-familiar with his underwear? 

He’s busy pondering this and doesn’t notice the man’s laughter taper off. “I don’t usually ask for permission. I just go after what I want.” 

_Oho._ He blinks. “Like it’s that easy?” 

“Like it’s that easy,” he says, almost cockily, and Tetsurou wants to swallow once more. 

“We’re still talking about laundry, right?”

“I wasn’t.” The man seems to think for a moment, then sticks his hand out abruptly in his direction. “Yaku Morisuke.”

Tetsurou reflexively shakes it. “Kuroo Tetsurou.” Yaku’s hand is small and slightly cold, but his grip is firm, almost bruising. Tetsurou sees stars, for more reasons than just the one. 

His earlier ire having faded, he shoots Yaku an apologetic smile. “And I didn’t, uh, mean to imply anything.” Or maybe part of him did subconsciously. “If you want to fondle—“ _what is he trying to say._ “You gotta buy me a coffee first,” he finishes weakly. 

This is worse than shoving his foot in his mouth. His foot is out of his mouth and his mouth’s running in a direction Tetsurou doesn’t want it to. But—pretty faces and sharp tongues and the sound of Yaku’s laughter swim in his mind. He’s a weak, weak man. 

“I'm more of a tea guy,” Yaku says, ignoring his rambling. His mouth quirks into a grin. “Is that an invitation?” 

“It could be, but I don’t want to ask anyone out while I’m holding a basketful of my underwear.” Tetsurou looks down—Yaku’s right; the Spiderman boxers have run their course—and shrugs. “I like to maintain an air of mystery.” 

An undignified snort escapes Yaku’s mouth. “What’s the mystery? How you manage to get your hair like that?”

Wounded, Tetsurou’s hand flies to his hair. “You’ll have to spend a night with me to figure that out, Yakkun,” he says, 

Yaku’s mouth twists into something he can’t read. “Yakkun?” he repeats finally. “The hell is that?”

“Taking a leaf out of your book.” With confidence pulled up from the depths of his stomach, Tetsurou winks and adds, “I can go after what I want too.” 

“Yeah, that seems creepy coming from you.” But Yaku doesn’t sound put-off, to Tetsurou’s relief. He holds his hand out, impatient, and Tetsurou looks at it quizzically before grasping it in his. “Idiot,” Yaku huffs, exasperated. “I wasn’t asking for your _hand_. I want your phone.” 

“Oh. Right.” That makes a lot more sense. Tetsurou hands over his phone and watches Yaku enter his contact details into it before dazedly slipping it back into his pocket. He’s not sure how he went from wanting to spar with Yaku over a washing machine to getting his number, but he’s not complaining. He is absolutely not complaining. 

“Catch me some other time, Mysterious Kuroo,” Yaku says, with a smile that transforms his entire face. Tetsurou falls in love for the third time over the course of their conversation, but this time—it feels less like a weakness and more like a sign of something to come. “I’m free on Friday, for starters.”

“No hot dates?”

“No hot dates. _Yet_.” He puts his hands on his hips and sighs. “I usually do my laundry on Fridays, but…” He looks pointedly from the washing machine to Tetsurou, and Tetsurou silently thanks whatever god forced Yaku to adjust his schedule for today. 

“Is this what they call fate?”

Yaku’s distaste radiates from him in waves. “Go ahead and delete my number.”

“Don’t be so _cold_ , Yakkun.”

He rolls his eyes and turns back to his machine and the basket of clothes resting on top of it. “See you around, Kuroo,” he says, and Tetsurou stares too long at the set of his shoulders before adjusting his grip on his basket and smiling. 

“See you Friday,” he says breezily, assuredly, and the sound of Yaku’s laughter follows him out the laundromat and all the way home, and remains in his heart as he texts Yaku later.

So it’s not the ending of _Spin Cycle_ , exactly, but maybe there’s something to laundromats anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> classes are stressful and i felt like writing something really silly so here we are!! anyway!! thank you for reading, and find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuto_mp4) if you're so inclined!


End file.
